


Blessed be my Guilt

by Carliro



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Evil, Gen, Misguided, Twisted, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carliro/pseuds/Carliro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A submission for the Innistrad Anthology Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessed be my Guilt

I slide, ever so silently, across the moonlit air. On my left, the waves bathe the silvery beach, and on my right the fields extend, almost inoccent in their own somber way. I extend my pale fingers, and I feel it again the light that Innistrad always tries to extinguish. I capture the flames, all of them to the last spark, and they're now forever burning, inside, safe from the cold and the sea wind.  
  
I do not remember when all of this started. I do not remember where I began, just that I am here. There are, however, strange whispers in myself, strange lights of a past life, that sometimes flash whenever I move silently beneath the Sun or before open fire. Voices, you know, though I cannot tell anymore where they came from, since now I hear voices all the time, most of them from the flames. They are of little help anyways, and I do not think it matters anymore.  
  
I do, however, feel guilt. An overwhelming feeling of guilt, of regret, of self-blaming for something I cannot even recall. My consciousness weeps for reasons I cannot understand, and I cannot help but to grieve for the happiness I never had. Maybe I have commited horrible sins in the darkness of the past, and this empty, grieving existence is my eternal punishment, to forever feel this without even understanding why. So I cannot examine the "why" and recover from it or justify it.  
  
In a way, however, it has done wonders for me. This guilt of mine has motivated me, has kept me alert to the grievances of others. I feel cries, grief, fear, suicidal thoughts, despair and many more filling the cold night air, and I seek them. I feel myself in every one of these thoughts and emotions, each a small dagger cutting through me, and I come to assist. If I commited sins in the past, I might as well make up for the future.  
  
I recall the first: a young boy, inside a flaming house. Devils had incited fires and murdered his family. They had broken his leg and filled it with pieces of broken glass, nailing him to a burning bed while they defiled the corpses of his parents. His skin was already beginning to die by the heat, but I saved him. I hastily entered the burning house and I took him out of there before he left his body, and now he lives forever, safe from the horrors of Innistrad, safe from devils and glass and horrendous visages. His salvation had for a moment lifted my grief, but it came down crashing again, as if something had been done wrong, and I set off, guiding by screams not too far away.  
  
I have only existed for about an year like this, and I have saved 201 souls from Innistrad's darkness. At no point had my guilt been lifted, my hypothetical sins been atoned, and frankly I do not mind anymore. This has become my duty, and if I have to suffer so that others may be safe, so be it. I have come to cherish my water-less tears, for they allow me to follow the currents that lead me to castaways, to people whose tears are still water and salt and who need them sofly wiped from their wonderful faces. And everytime I help, every time I see their eyes bright with the prospect of rescue from the world's woes, I truly feel alive again. My guilt doesn't die, but my grief does, for I feel happy and warm even if for just a few minutes.  
  
Yet, I cannot help but feel that there is some procedure I am misdoing. It is a thought that occasionally plagues me, whenever I save people, and I wonder sometimes if it is why my guilt has not been lifted. I shrug it off, for it seems nonsensical. One day, I felt a massive ressurgence of light in the world, and while it empowered me greatly, it has left many small sensations of cuts, as if I was being reprimanded for something. It has lingered me for several days, until I heard the screams and felt the pain of others again, so for the sake of Innistrad I forsook these pointless, probably delusional feelings.  
  
The Moon is setting on the horizon. I hold the flames, alive and well, now safe from the perils of the skaaberen. Softly I raised the silvery waters of the sea, a calm wave rising to meet her shell and carry it to the open waters, away from scavengers and undead. She is now safe, now enjoying a Blessed Sleep in the most pure of all graves,  [and a life ever free from pain ](http://gatherer.wizards.com/Pages/Search/Default.aspx?name=+%5BDrogskol%5D+%5BReaver%5D).


End file.
